


Memories of Budapest

by MadamBackslash



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-30
Updated: 2012-05-30
Packaged: 2017-11-06 07:28:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/416277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadamBackslash/pseuds/MadamBackslash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint and Natasha have different interpretations of events in Budapest.</p>
<p>Fluff, more or less.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memories of Budapest

Clint shook his head, touching his fingers to the corner of his mouth where Natasha had just slugged him. Hard. Yep, he was bleeding. No, there were no loose teeth. This time.

"What the fuck was that for?"

"Oh, come on, you know what the fuck that was for," she replied, a little too calmly for his tastes, taking her guns out of their holsters and checking they were unloaded. She turned to put them on the table in the dingy hotel room they were sharing before fetching her tools.

"What, you're pissed off because I came to see if you were still alive, is that it? Because if that's it, then Tasha... fuck, I don't fucking know any more."

"Seeing if I'm still alive is one thing, and _bozhe moi_ , are we going to talk about your trust issues one of these days, Clint. Charging to my rescue like a knight in shining armour is quite another." The flinty stare she levelled on him made him actually flinch, and he was a guy who'd stared death in the face so many times it wasn't really remarkable any more.

Still, he'd never backed down from a fight, and he wasn't going to start now.

"Charging to your rescue, huh? We chase these assholes halfway across the continent, finally get them holed up in... where the fuck are we again?"

"Budapest." She tried very hard not to twitch the corner of her lips at that. Geography had never been Clint's strong suit.

"Fine, get them holed up in Budapest, you beg me to go and get you a coffee before we chase them down, and, because I'm a sucker who'll do anything for you when you look at me like that, I go. And when I come back, you've vanished into thin air and you didn't even leave a note." A flush spread across his cheeks as he became aware of just how much like a whiny teenager he was beginning to sound. "MY trust issues," he muttered, folding his arms across his chest and looking away. The coffee cup was still sitting on the windowsill, its contents stone cold, next to the open window she'd scrambled out of on the trail of their foe.

Natasha bit her lip, but couldn't entirely stop the smile at the stricken "oh god, I really am fifteen on the inside" look on Clint's face. "You wanted me to leave you a note."

"Would've been nice," he conceded, still turned away. He scratched the back of his head with one hand (oh, so there was a cut there after all -- he'd wondered). "So I didn't think you were dead."

"Seriously, Clint, I had a positive ID and a direct line of sight. I couldn't let them just walk down the street like they... belonged there, or owned it, or..." she waved a hand, looking for the right word, but it was gone. The fight had gone out of her, and out of Clint too.

He dropped his head and looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "I wasn't trying to rescue you. I know better. I... just wanted to be part of it. Anyway, archers make fucking terrible knights. All that armour gets in the way of the draw."

"And I didn't intentionally ditch you. I'd never ditch you, _malyen'kiy yastryeb_. I just didn't have the ten seconds I'd have needed to leave you a note," Natasha said, eyes softening. She put down the bottle of gun oil she'd been fiddling with and stood up, stretching like a cat. Her smile turned fond. "It was good to have you at my back."

Clint uncurled from his hunched-up position against the wall, smiling back at her. "It was good to be there. But Tasha, you owe me big time for that smack in the face you gave me just now."

It was Natasha's turn to wince. "Yeah, I do. I'm sorry. How can I make it up to you?"

Clint stretched, feeling the pull of abused muscles. "Just let me have the first shower. I'll even promise not to use up all the hot water. Oh, and an espresso from that little place up the road would be perfect. Thanks."

He laughed when she smacked him on the arm on her way out the door.

**Author's Note:**

> First fic in this fandom. Please don't hurt me.


End file.
